About Time
by panda-smack
Summary: When Abbie and Luke get back together, Ichabod becomes jealous and confronts Abbie (This is a Ichabbie fic)


"Another" he demanded.

Ichabod slammed the now empty glass down with a bit more force than he intended, nearly shattering the delicate cup. The bartender collected his glass to re-fill it, all while curiously eyeing the strange man.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Usually, he didn't care to bother about how much his customers consumed through the night, but _damn, it was his 6th glass in glass in less than an hour. _

Ichabod grumbled, muttering something about the man's incapability to comply with his simple wish.

The bartender shook his head. He handed a full glass to him then went on to attend to the others sprinkled across the bar, wondering what could have caused the man to indulge so much alcohol.

The rational part of Ichabod knew he should have ceased four glasses ago, but he had no desire to do so. Everything was still too clear; the conversations taking place around, the loud noise coming from the television above his head, his thoughts, but most of all, her laughter.

_That goddamn laugh. _He could still hear it, even as he sat all the way across the room. He usually jumped at any chance to hear the melodious sound that filled him with life. Tonight however, he had no desire for it, knowing that the cause of that beautiful sound was another man.

When Miss Mills first suggested he accompany her to a small gathering being held by Captain Irving he happily agreed, seeing how these days, they seldom saw each other due to her decision to rekindle things with Detective Morales a few weeks ago.

When Morales, once again, started to pursuit Miss Mills, Ichabod paid no mind to it. He had tried numerous times before that and Miss Mills always brushed him off, much to Ichabod's delight. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand had been different this time.

His mood took a turn for the worst that night when he and Mills stepped into the familiar establishment and were greeted with a smile from Morales. '_Why hadn't I foreseen that he would be here?' _he thought

His throat suddenly craved for the burn that alcohol provided.

Now there he sat, wishing nothing more but to completely submerge himself into utter oblivion.

~o~

He could feel her presence before he could see her. Ichabod was halfway through his 7th glass when Miss Mills appeared beside him.

"So, are you going to be a stranger all night, or do you plan on joining the rest of us?" she asked.

God she was beautiful. Maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, but at that particular moment she resembled a goddess.

'_What are you talking about, she's always been this stunning.' _he thought.

"Hey Crane, you okay?"

It was then that he realized he had yet to answer her.

"It seems I may have had too much to drink," he said

"Yeah, I noticed." She mumbled

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Have you been watching me, Lieutenant?"

He noticed how her delicate cheeks flushed with the slightest shade of red. _'I must be far more intoxicated than I thought.'_

"Oh…well… I was just making sure you were staying out of trouble."

Her words were rushed; she must have had a bit to drink as well, he reasoned. "Well, I assure you Miss Mills, there is no need for that."

His words were beginning to slur, he could tell by the accusing look he received from her.

"Look, why don't we head home? I can drop you off at the cabin," she said.

"What about Detective Morales?" He hoped the bitterness in his voice wasn't so clear. "Please, do not allow me to be a hindrance on your night of relaxation."

"It's alright, really. I was thinking of heading out anyways. Let me just grab my coat and let everyone know we're leaving." Before he could protest, she turned and walked away.

It wasn't long before she was back by his side, assisting him out of his chair. He realized he did not require her help in the simple task, but the greedy side of him enjoyed their close proximity too much to deny her offer. As they made their way out of the building, he could almost feel Detective Morales' eyes burning holes in his back.

They walked to the car, parked too far away he noted, and entered it. He tried his best to regain some of his senses as the Lieutenant pulled into the road.

They stayed silent as they drove through the night. It had never been like this; it was unusual for them to go more than a minute without uttering a word.

But as of late, it had been hard for them to hold a conversation. He was well aware of the reason to this change, and he was sure she knew as well, but they never addressed the elephant in the room.

All of a sudden, he was all too aware of her presence; how her light sweet vanilla fragrance tingled his nose, how her soft humming melted something inside of him. He was tuned to her every movement.

He wanted nothing more than to trace his fingers across her smooth skin, than to hold her close in his arms and have her slowly fall asleep.

And oh, those lips; how he wished to know their taste. He recognized how inappropriate it was to have such lingering thoughts, but he could not help it. He longed for her.

Soon, they arrived at Corbin's cabin. Or rather his cabin, he noted, remembering Miss Mills' assurance of him making it his home.

"Would you like to come in for some tea Miss Mills?" he asked, not willing to leave her presence.

"It's pretty late Crane, I don't want to bother you," she replied.

"Please, I insist." He was pouting now.

Her lips tugged upwards in a smile, "Sure, why not."

They dragged their boots through the leaves scattered on the ground as they walked to the cabin.

"I'll get the water heated up," the Lieutenant said once they were inside. Ichabod noticed how her shirt shifted slightly as she removed her coat, exposing a bit of her shoulder.

He cleared his throat loudly then said, "Ah…yes, well excuse me while I freshen up a bit." He quickly fled to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him,

Looking in the mirror, he found his face was flushed red and his eyes brighter that usual. '_You must control yourself Crane.'_

After splashing some water in his face, he exited the bathroom and headed for the kitchen area.

"Crane, you got any cookies or crackers?" he heard the Lieutenant call out.

"I believe some biscuits reside in the cabinet above the stove," he replied. When he entered the kitchen, he noticed her struggling to reach said cabinet due to her height. He quickly strode across the room, intent on assisting her.

He did not, however, intend on the lack of space that was left between them once he reached up to retrieve the box of snacks. He did not intend to have Miss Mills turn around so swiftly, unaware of their close proximity. He did not intend how warm her hands felt when she placed them on his chest in an attempt to stable herself. He most _definitely_ did not intend to have his pelvis brush against her leg.

He could feel her warm breaths caress his neck; they were almost as fast and uneven as his were. He looked down at her, only to be met with the deep brown of winter at twilight looking up at him through unimaginably long lashes. It was almost as if time had come to a halt. He could hear his blood pounding in his veins.

His eyes travelled down along her face, landing on her luscious lips, subconsciously licking his own. Gently, he brought his hands down her side. His fingers delicately glided along the skin on her arms, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. He could hear her breath hitch when his hands finally rested in her hips.

"Crane…" her voice was barley a whisper.

Slowly, he lowered his head, intent on tasting the lips that haunted him in his dreams.

There was merely centimeters between them when she pulled away. He immediately felt the warmth leave him as she did so.

Her back faced him as she tried to regain her composure. Moments, that felt like minutes, passed by without neither of them saying a word. The silence was too suffocating for him.

"Miss Mills, please forgive me. I did not mean to-"

"It's not fair," he heard her say.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not fair, Crane. You can't keep doing this to me." Her words were choked. When she finally turned to face him, he could see a ghost of unshed tears glistening her eyes. "I waited for you. I waited for so long and you did nothing but push me away."

It was true. He was a mess after Katrina died. Although he was devastated that she was no longer alive, it was during that time the he realized that he no longer loved her with the same intensity that he once did. He was aware that his growing affection towards his partner was the cause of it. The guilt of not loving his wife as much as he vowed to plagued him. His first response was to distance himself from Miss Mills. She was understanding at first, giving him the space he needed.

But even he could sense her heart growing tired.

"You can't just do this Ichabod, not now that I've decided to move on." She continued.

"So you decided that reacquainting your self with Detective Morales was the best way to go about it?" He didn't mean for his voice to raise as much as it did, but he couldn't help it.

"That's really none of your concern." There was fire in her words. She began to collect her coat and her keys. "I think I should leave."

Before she could cross the threshold of the kitchen, Ichabod reached out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to him and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was clumsy and rushed, but neither paid mind to that. Ichabod brings his hands up to frame her face, pouring everything into the kiss. He kisses her like a desperate man, like a man who's been deprived of water for days. She responds by tangling and curling her fingers into his hair, pressing his face closer to hers. He's surprised to find that her urgency matches his own.

He quickly lifts her up by the waist and backs them into the island in the middle of the kitchen, placing her on top of it. He moves to stand in between her legs, all while keeping their lips attached. She comes up for air with a gasp, arching her back as he moves his mouth across her jawline and sucks lightly. His fingers skim up her legs coming to a rest at the top of her thighs where the edge of the dress lays bunch up.

"Miss Mills…Abbie," he breathes against her neck, "I fear that if we are to continue, I may not be able to stop myself."

"Shut up, Crane." She brings his lips to hers once again, feeling herself grow weak with the deliberate, hard way he kisses her. He tugs at her bottom lip and tempts her mouth open with his tongue. It isn't long before their tongues are joined together in a slow delicate dance.

She can feel how hot and hard he is against his pants. She moves her hands to the buttons on his coat, hurriedly pulling them apart and throwing the coat onto the floor, doing the same with the shirt beneath it.

He shivers at the feel of her hand running along his chest, causing his grip on her thighs to tighten. A ghost of a moan escapes her.

He moves the dress higher up, bringing his fingers to the edge of her panties. Tentatively, he strokes her through the thin fabric, watching as she stirs against him.

"Fuck…Crane," she gasps. "Maybe…mmm…we should continue this in the bedro-"

Ichabod wastes no time. He lifts her off of the counter and she straddles his waist, her arms linked around his neck. He carries her to the bedroom, and with great eagerness, laid her upon the bed. Hovering over her, he stares down at her. Her were lips swollen from the force of their kiss, and her eyes clouded with desire. He imagined he did not look much different.

He attaches his lips to her collar bone, teasing it lightly with his tongue. She gasps, then pushes him away. Reaching down for the edge of her dress, she pulls it over her head, leaving her in nothing more than her bra and panties. She's vaguely aware of the groan that leaves Ichabod's throat.

He reaches down and around her, and with much ease, unclasps her bra, causing her to raises an eyebrow at him.

"The corsets back in my day were much more complicated than this," he answers her unvoiced question.

His eyes travel down her body, admiring every bump and curve. He brings his lips to her neck once again, and his hands skim up her legs.

"You're so beautiful Abigail." He moves mouth across her collarbones, sucking lightly as he goes. "I wish I could properly take the time to treasure you, but my growing desire will not allow me to do so at this moment."

He moves his hand up her body and takes one of her breasts. He tugs her nipple, enjoying how she whimpers and stirs beneath his touch.

Then she reaches down, biting her lip, and cups him through his underwear, wondering when he disposed of his trousers.

Ichabod closes his eyes and his movement still as she reaches inside. "Mmm…Abbie."

Gripping more tightly, she moves her hands up and down his shaft, taking delight as he tries to stifle his moans in the crook of her neck. Grabbing her hand, he urgently pulls it away, then slides down her body. In one swift movement, he rids her of panties and brings her legs over his shoulders.

He gently places a trail of kisses to her inner thigh, stopping mere centimeters away from her folds.

"May I?" he asks innocently. She furiously nods her head, too flustered for words at the moment.

He runs his finger through her folds, flicking her clit with his thumb. "So wet," he says almost to himself.

She reaches down to tug his hair, urging him forward and it isn't long before his tongue is on her. It's so overwhelming at first that she has to pull away, but he's relentless and drags her back down. She rolls her lips against his face and he takes pleasure in the slew of moans that leave her throat.

He pushes one long finger inside of her but keeps it still. She shifts her hips, urging him to move, but he doesn't comply and continues to tease her clit with his tongue.

"Ichabod…" she begs.

"Mine," he whispers. He brings his lips back up to hers, allowing her to taste her own juices. "You are mine, my dear."

"Please…" it's another breathless cry.

"Say it. Let me hear you."

She slowly opens her eyes, intensely staring into his own. "I'm yours"

He begins to move his fingers inside of her, slow at first, then at an impossibly fast rate. He takes her lips once again, swallowing down her moans.

When she feels that she's too close, she pulls his hands away, reaches for the bedside drawer and pulls out the box of condoms that was hidden inside.

She sits up, taking hold of his member. Her fingers run across the sensitive head, then wraps the condom over him.

He lays her back down and she opens her legs invitingly.

It's a bit of a tight fit, but God, it feels so right.

She wraps her legs around him and he begins to moves. His movements are surprisingly slow and gentle at first, as if he's trying gain some composure, but it isn't long before he's pounding into her. He angles himself properly so that he hits her spot. She sighs against him, rolling her hips to meet his own.

"Ichabod" she gasps.

His thrusts deepen, and she can't help but arch into him, dragging her fingers down her back. His fingers find their way between them and he harshly flicks her clit.

She screams his name and soon finds herself at her peak, her walls squeezing out his own climax. With one final thrust, Ichabod spills inside of her, still circling his hips against hers. He gently pulls out of her and disposes of the condom before collapsing beside her.

"Fuck," Abbie says.

"Indeed." Ichabod chuckles. Then a moment later "Abbie…"

"Shh it's okay. We'll talk about it tomorrow." She turns around then buries her face in his chest. Ichabod says nothing, and wraps his arms around her small frame, pulling her closer. He falls asleep with the smell of warm vanilla in his nose.


End file.
